Traditions'r'Us

Still haven't recovered from the post-Diwali blues? Christmas will be here soon, and here's some cheer for all our readers - a new post by a new writer! We've 'celebrated' family over the last few weeks at Indian Chai Stories, and now it's time for friends. One of our well loved Christmas stories on this blog is Rajesh Thomas's account of what it felt like to play Santa Claus. Today, Kamran Mohsin tells us what it was like to be his Man Friday at that same Christmas celebration. Enjoy your read!

Traditions 'r' Us 

by Kamran Mohsin

The High range has had many glorious traditions and one such tradition is the children’s Christmas party at the Club. Two assistant managers are randomly chosen, one would be Santa & the other his man Friday. There would be a grand entrance where Santa & man Friday would come swooping in & since the children were still children in those days & not the ‘glued to the screen PUBG / Mine craft playing wizards’ that they are today; they would return home with a treat & a present (from their parents of course) and a big smile. For them, it was a day full of laughter & cheer, watching ‘Simba the white lion’ and it was something they looked forward to every year. It was their big day at the club. The club on that day was full of ladies, mostly young mothers & their children. Knick knacks, balloons, and party poppers could be found all over the place. Being from the same planting district & more dangerously, the same company, we knew them all & they knew us. A cock-up here, therefore, was not an option.

The task at hand was quite simple. Make a grand entrance, wish everyone merry Christmas without scaring the bejezuz out of the little children, give them the treats & presents & pose for a few photographs (of which I have none unfortunately) & get out while your dignity was still intact. It was the man Friday’s job to hand over the presents to Santa & Santa’s job to hand over that presents to the children. One by one.

But life is not so hunky dory & so this is where the twist comes in. 

The reward for partaking in this fanfare and putting on that fancy dress & making a mockery of yourselves would be a bottle of rum. Old Monk, no less! Furthermore, as per tradition, that bottle of rum was to disappear between Santa & his side kick before the fanfare started! And as per another tradition of the high ranges, they were both expected to complete the above task, no matter how intoxicated they were & finally after it’s all over, get back to their estates in one piece.

I never knew Santa had a man Friday until I was cherry picked to become one and my good friend Rajesh was to be Santa himself. Which was great for us because 1) we both got half a day off from the daily rigmarole of the estate & more importantly, 2) free booze, DUH!

So, on the designated day, both of us arrived at the club on our steeds, straight after lunch. Bang on time, as usual, in keeping with another tradition in the high ranges. Punctuality.

We were given a club room all to ourselves where we would make the monk disappear & also change into our outfits, all while waiting for our ride to come pick us up before our grand entrance into the club. But I am getting ahead of myself.

We had the happy hour to celebrate first & the ‘old monk’ was staring us in the face. Between the two of us, Rajesh was a seasoned hand, while I was still finding my feet. But booze was never wasted, free or otherwise. Another High Range tradition! I know I had a couple of big swigs & was on the wrong side of tipsy while Rajesh, Rajesh had the rest of the monk all to himself and handled it like a pro. 

Like that seasoned boxer who tires his opponent out by soaking in all he can throw at him & then when the opponent has no more to give, our man delivers a tight right uppercut & seals it with a left hook. In no time I was happy where I was but Rajesh was happier still. In this happy state of ours, we began attempting of get into our fancy dress. 

Edmund & Tenzing must have had an easier first attempt, I can promise you that. Rajesh was into his Santa suit eventually & I don’t recall what I got into. If we knew any better, we should have gotten into our suits before saying hello to the monk. But being young & courteous assistants we didn’t want to keep the old chap waiting. Another high range tradition upheld by the young guns. Courtesy.

Now, how we finally got into our costumes is a blur. And so is the time when they handed over a flimsy bicycle for us to ride & make our grand entrance in. One lousy push bike between the two of us! I mean, we knew there were budgetary restrictions but this took the cake. I could swear it was a jeep and we were driven into the club but Rajesh insists it was a bicycle.

Apparently, I rode it & he was sitting behind me, hanging on tight for dear life! Anyhow, it’s been 25 years & you can’t blame us for not remembering the details. So off we went. Crossed the club cattle grid and all! So far so good.

And then I have some faint memories of lying flat in front of the kids on the club portico. Thank god for the balloons lying about that cushioned our unceremonious dismount. The kids found that amusing to say the least. So we made our grand entrance with a ‘bang’ then!

Eventually, I found myself in the club lounge where a small stage was set up upon which Santa would do the honors. Happy hour was over, now we had to deliver, Santa & I. Speaking of Santa, he was nowhere to be seen after we ‘hit’ the portico! A search party was sent to gather Santa and carry him to the stage. He seemed in good ‘spirits’. Anyhow, all good things must come to an end. Presents were given I am sure; although I cannot confirm if the right child got the gift his or her parents wanted them to get. It’s all a bit of a blur. I am also not so sure about what else was said and done on stage during the fanfare. No one’s complained ever since, so I am guessing Rajesh & I must have accomplished the task given to us with flying colours. It was the tradition to maintain the tradition & the two of us did it with ‘mucho gusto’. Or so we were told.

I am also assuming we rode back to our estates in one piece later that evening.

Like I said, the blur is real & it’s been 25 years! Happy days!

Meet the writer: 

Kamran Mohsin

I joined the tea plantations with Tata tea in Munnar straight out of college in 1995 and eight years later found my self in the warm heart of Africa: Malawi, doing much the same and perhaps more. After ten years in Malawi, I am now based in Mombasa, Kenya for the past seven and visit the game parks here more often than I did my fields back on the plantations. I am an amateur photographer and being on a safari is the closest I can get to the good old planting days where the great outdoors was home.

 More Christmas stories here: https://teastorytellers.blogspot.com/search?q=christmas

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My name is Gowri Mohanakrishnan and I'm a tea planter's wife. I started this blog because one of the things that I wouldn't want us to lose in a fast changing world is the tea story - a story always told with great seriousness, no matter how funny - always true (always), maybe a tall tale, long, or short, impossible, scary, funny or exciting but never dull. 
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